


Eight Hours

by F-117 Nighthawk (F117_Nighthawk)



Series: Such A Quiet Thing [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: Knights of the Old Republic (Video Games)
Genre: Battle of Althir, Burns, Exhaustion, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force exhaustion, Impalement, Major Character Injury, Mandalorian Wars, Other, Pre-Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic, Queerplatonic Relationships, That's Not How The Force Works, Trapped, but as Rev is the chosen one sometimes he does things he shouldn't be able to, collapsing building, i tried to stay away from graphic descriptions of the injuries but hm, someone gets some bad burns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24190096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/F117_Nighthawk/pseuds/F-117%20Nighthawk
Summary: The Mandalorian Wars have turned in the Republic's favor, thanks to the strategic genius of Revan, the Republic army's Supreme Commander. After Taris and the death of Cassus Fett, victory is practically within the Republic's grasp. That victory is threatened, however, when a concussion missile hits the forward command center on Althir, leaving the survivors' lives hanging by the thin thread of Revan's ability to keep the building from further collapsing.A rescue mission will get there in eight hours.Revan's ability might not last that long.
Relationships: Alek | Darth Malak/Revan, Alek | Darth Malak/The Jedi Exile, Alek | Darth Malak/The Jedi Exile/Revan, The Jedi Exile/Revan
Series: Such A Quiet Thing [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434499
Comments: 5
Kudos: 20





	Eight Hours

**Author's Note:**

> HOH boy. I took a break from writing WTPD bc I was trying to force a scene and it wasn't working to play Kotor (and I didn't want to post it while the email stuff was happening). Somehow, this happened instead of WTPD.  
> I actually started this last year when I first created Revelin but never got around to finishing it. (That was, coincidentally, about the time Gloryhammer's latest album came out, which explains McFife and Crail's names.) It ended up MUCH longer than I originally thought it was going to be, to the point that usually I would split this into at least two chapters due to my hatred of the fact that _sometimes,_ my phone jumps to random points in the page if I tab out of the browser or flip my phone the other way and I hate scrolling, but the way I structured it I can't think of a good way for that to work. Have fun scrolling.

**_343rd Command Post, Avibelle, Althir_ **

**_1313 hours_ **

“All due respect, General Alek, we cannot afford an assault on that position.”

“I think we can, General Naniin. We have the Mandos on the run; we just need one final push to get them off Althir.”

“But to attack  _ Rainburgh? _ That’s their base of operations here, it’s the most heavily fortified position on the planet. The casualties would be enormous. I’m sorry, but there’s just no way we can get to it right now.”

“And if we  _ wait? _ What will the casualties be when we’ve taken everywhere else, and they’ve called all their warriors back? We have to take Rainburgh before that happens.”

“Do you  _ remember _ Taris? We lost--”

_ “Yes,  _ General, I remember Taris. I was  _ down there.  _ Without Cassus Fett, there’s no way they’ll be able to pull off anything like that ever again.”

General Naniin’s hologram crossed her arms over her lekku and glared at him. Frustrated, Alek glanced over at Revan’s hologram, but his masked face was unreadable. Not for the first time in this conversation, he wished he was at the forward command base with them, instead of holed up in a hollowed-out bar somewhere five hundred klicks west of them. Revan was so much easier to read when he was right next to him; even their Force Bond didn’t help when Revelin’s mask seemed to take up his entire being.

“Revan, Sir, what do you think?”

Revan was silent for a moment. Alek saw Naniin open her mouth to ask again before his voice finally filtered through his helmet’s modulator. “I think… that Rainburgh isn’t what we think it is.”

Both Generals blinked at him. “What?”

“Look,” Revan said, flicking a hand out and manipulating the hologram of the planet in front of them. He zoomed in on the area surrounding Rainburgh and highlighted a few distinct areas. “The layout of these troops isn’t how you defend a single city. It’s how you defend a string of cities along a line. We don’t have any reports of Mandalorian activity anywhere else between Ebonmere and Aicairn. So why are they defending them? There must be something we don’t know about some city in that line.”

“They could simply be attempting to defend Rainburgh from all avenues. Something like the Jebble-Vanquo-Tarnith line.”

Revan shook his head. “That works in space, not on the ground. No, this is defending something more. Some outpost of some kind. Something important, like their  _ actual _ main base. Alek, how many Jedi with Shadow training do we have on planet?”

Alek tried to remember, failed, and pulled up his datapad. “Two, Knights Del and Jujel.”

“That’s two people.”

“Yeah.”

“Then there’s  _ three _ people with Shadow training.”

“We’re  _ not _ counting you, Revan.”

“I can guarantee you I have more mission experience than both of them put--” Revan suddenly cut himself off and snapped his head towards the side.

“Sir?” Naniin asked, brow furrowed.

_ “COVER!”  _ Revan yelled as he started moving like he was summoning a powerful Force push but the audio cut out and the image turned into a grainy mass. Alek swore he caught a body flying backward before the hologram shut off completely.

“Revan?  _ Revan!” _

Silence seemed to stretch around him for an eternity as he reached out, desperately hoping that the image would come back, that Revan would reach out and tell him it was all okay. But all he got was a sense of desperation and clamped-down pain. 

“Sir!” someone called “Contacts on the western perimeter! Five Basilisks and a trooper contingent.”

Alek forced himself to focus on his own troops for the moment. “Get the 343rd mobilized and out there. Reinforce the lines between that cantina and the edge of town. Someone contact the  _ Revanchist _ and make sure Dodonna knows what’s happening. Ruze, tell me if Revan makes contact. Ghevro, let’s kick some metal ass.”

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1318 hours_ **

Colonel Airen McFife groaned as consciousness greeted him with a pain in his shoulder and one hell of a headache. He took a deep breath and ended up rolling onto his side to cough. It felt like he’d inhaled an entire room full of dust.

When he finally managed to open his eyes, he discovered that wasn’t far from the truth. The command center was dark, what little light streamed in from the ceiling glanced off a massive swirl of dust that had been kicked into the air--

Wait. Streaming in from the  _ ceiling? _

No, no, it  _ was _ streaming from the ceiling. The ceiling had huge cracks in it and was at an angle it certainly hadn’t been before. 

Force, that piece right above him didn’t look like it was being held up by  _ anything at all. _

McFife scrambled out from under it, utterly convinced it was about to fall, and let his training take over. He had a gash on his shoulder that wasn’t bleeding too bad but sure hurt like hell, a probable minor concussion, and a few bruises slowly forming on his back. The already shredded sleeve of his jacket made a decent bandage for the gash until he could find something better, but didn’t do much against the dust. 

Interestingly, the piece of ceiling was still up there. There was a noticeable gap of twisted girders around it, so unless something was magically suctioning it from the top that he couldn’t see,  _ nothing was holding it up. _

Keeping one wary eye on it, he took stock of the room. Several other people were beginning to stir around him, but the person who caught his attention wasn’t moving. General Naniin was leaning against the command console, one of her lekku covered in blood and head at a distinctly odd angle. When he pressed a hand to her neck, he couldn’t feel a pulse. 

“Colonel?”

McFife glanced behind him to find one of the techs, Major Deshi Crail, sitting up looking at him. One of her montrails was knicked, the lekku below it curled up in pain. “Force, are you okay, Crail?”

“Fine. Or will be. In a minute. Is she--?”

He nodded. “Gone. We need to start taking stock of who’s alive, what the damage is, and if there’s a way out.” He stood, glancing around at the few others stirring. “This level looks pretty badly hit. I’m betting we’re the only command staff left in the building--”

Crail interrupted him with a frown. “What about Revan?”

McFife blinked for a moment and then paled. “Oh,  _ sithspit.”  _ Revan had been right next to General Naniin, but he obviously wasn’t  _ now, _ and  _ Force _ if the Supreme Commander was injured or  _ worse-- _

Frantically he searched around, looking for distinctive black robes and red armor. Crail joined him, rubbing her lekku as she lifted bits of debris. “I don’t--there’s holes in the floor, he might’ve fallen down one?”

McFife nodded. “Think the stairs still work?”

Crail glanced over at the miraculously mostly-clear door in the corner of the floor. “Can’t hurt to try.”

Together they forced the door open and cautiously made their way down the stairs, a flashlight providing barely enough light for them to navigate the crumbling wood. The floor below where the main command center had been was darker, lit only by whatever light managed to filter through several stories worth of holes. Jagged bits of girder stabbed up and down like stalactites, debris littered around in piles that seemed to be holding up the bowed ceiling. 

“Kriff,” Crail muttered as she took it all in.

“Agreed.” They stood there for a moment, trying to see a way through to anything at all. “We might need to move stuff.”

“Move  _ what?” _

McFife shrugged and walked up to a pile. He didn’t get any further than looking up at the top before a muffled voice with a distinctive modulated tinge filtered through the creaking silence. “I wouldn’t move that.”

“Sir! Where are you?”

“Around the… left.”

McFife found the barely-there gap in the debris, and he and Crail squeezed through. The other side was darker, but the little light glinted off a distinctive, very familiar black and red helmet. Revan was sitting, leaning against a pile of debris that towered into the darkness. His right knee was bent up, hand resting on top of it like he was holding a ball in his hand. His other arm was resting against his stomach, other leg stretched out in front of him.

“Supreme Commander, oh thank Force. Are you alright?”

“Yeah.”

Revan’s voice sounded strained even though his helmet’s modulator, which wasn’t good a sign. McFife squatted in front of him while Crail poked her way further into the area. “Are you sure?” 

“I’m… alright.”

“All due respect, Sir, you don’t sound like it.”

Revan managed a huff of a laugh. “I’m about… the one thing... keeping this place from falling… on our heads. I’d be... surprised if I… sounded okay.”

McFife frowned in confusion before the image of the piece of ceiling that hadn’t been held up by anything floated through his mind. It  _ had _ been being held up by something: the Force. His eyes widened. “Can I help you somehow, Sir?”

“Gather the survivors. Headcount, medical… scout if there’s… a way out. Report back… when you’re done.”

McFife stood and saluted. “Yes, Sir.”

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1359 hours_ **

“Careful, Crail.”

“I’m being as careful as I can, Sir,” Crail muttered. McFife could hear the grumpy tone in her voice, barely held back by the chain of command. 

He wouldn’t honestly blame her if she snapped at him. They’d been searching the building with a slowly growing complement of help for almost a standard hour, gathering survivors and supplies, but so far, there was no way out. Every small crack in the rubble they found that seemed like it was going to let even one of the shorter Human survivors out turned out either unstable or much smaller on the other side. Neither had high hopes for this latest one. 

Crail ducked under a jut of steel and duracrete and studied the space in front of her. A relatively flat section of floor extended in front of her, turning around a corner where a thin stream of sunlight could be seen. “Well, this area looks big enough for me to fit my montrails through, at least.”

“How stable is it?”

She tapped at the ground with a foot, but her injured montrail couldn’t pick up the vibrations as well as usual. Hesitantly she put more weight on it, looking around as she did so, trying to get her non-injured montrail closer to the vibrations she was looking for. When nothing jumped out, she put her full weight on it.

And that was when an ominous crack broke through the silence and her feet slipped out from under her with the duracrete. With a yelp, she grabbed onto a broken strut, but another crack echoed through the broken building and the bar she was holding onto was falling and so was she--

\--and then they were floating half a meter below where they had been, a wide-eyed Crail hanging on for dear life and a stunned McFife frozen mid-shout. Crail managed to move one hand to the more solid duracrete and hauled herself back onto the stable floor. McFife grabbed her arm, and they stumbled in more before collapsing to the floor. They flinched when a resounding clang echoed behind them.

McFife leaned over and gazed warily at the broken bar stuck in a crack between two sharp-edged beams sticking up into the air, duracrete dust around it. “Well. Not that way.”

“Yeah,” Crail breathed, “I really don’t wanna do that again.”

“We should probably make our way back. I don’t think we’re going to find anything workable.”

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1409 hours_ **

McFife sighed and glanced around at the assembled people as he and Crail made their way back into the area they’d found Revan in. Most of the survivors were stuffed into the remains of the floor, while those that couldn’t be easily moved were still on the floor above. Their haven mainly consisted of the medium-sized area they’d found Revan in, but the survivors had managed to expand it slightly under Revan’s guidance so there was a sort of antechamber before it. Some survivors were taking stock of the supply crates they’d found, while others were sitting in the few shock blankets they had against what remained of the walls. The two survivors of the medical staff were patching up who they could, and making sure those they couldn’t were comfortable. McFife caught the eye of one of the medics and waved them over. Xe jogged over, lekku twisting up around xer shoulders. 

“How’s Revan?”

“He hasn’t let us touch him, Sir. He said there was nothing we could do that the Force wasn’t already doing and that there were others we needed to concentrate on.”

McFife glanced over at Revan, who didn’t seem to have moved at all. He hid a sigh and nodded, dismissing the medic. Crail gave him a raised eyebrow, and subtly nodded towards Revan. He nodded in agreement, and they picked their way over to him. “Sir?”

“McFife, Crail. Sorry I didn’t catch that bar sooner.”

They blinked at him for a moment before Crail managed to regain her senses. “Well, I’m just glad you caught it at all. Landing on those beams wouldn’t have been a fun way to die.”

“Indeed. I know you have a report, but I’d rather everyone hear it. We’re going to need to work together to get through this in one piece.”

The survivors gathered themselves closer to where the Supreme Commander of the Republic Military was sitting, lit in the glow of their sole powerful glowstick. The harsh blue glow lit up Revan’s helmet with odd shadows and highlights, washing out the distinctive red of his armor. When everyone had finally gathered, he indicated for others to give their reports. 

McFife had been aware that others had taken up part of the report Revan had ordered as they found people more suited to it, but this was the first time he’d had the opportunity to listen to the real state of affairs. Of the original complement of 100 soldiers in the forward command center, twenty-eight had survived. Thirteen of those had severe injuries that prevented them from moving too much or too fast, not counting Revan. All of them had at the very least bruises and most probably had concussions. 

Revan had, at that, merely stated that he supposed that was why they were named concussion missiles. Laughter hissed its way past most people’s lips after a beat, the type of laughter only heard on battlefields or in hospitals, the release of tension of those well and truly beyond their limits but with no other choice. 

Their medical supplies had been saved the worst of the blast but were not going to last more than twelve hours. Their weapons consisted of twenty pistols with too few tibanna cartridges, whatever pieces of rubble could be picked up, and Revan’s lightsabers. Food wasn’t going to be a problem, but water was; almost the entire supply had been smashed with the building. McFife and Crail had not been successful in finding any way out that wouldn’t end with them collapsing the building on top of themselves, and their comms, even Revan’s helmet comm, were shot. 

In short, things looked bleak. Silence reigned for a moment, and then Revan did the last thing any of them expected.

He reached up and took his helmet off.

Bright copper-bronze hair spilled out to his shoulders, a hairband hanging forlornly from a lock. His skin looked pale against black robes, but no one could tell whether it was unnaturally pale; they had nothing to compare it to. Revan shook his head lightly to clear his face while he set his helmet down by his hip. His eyes opened to reveal warm, rich silver-grey staring at them quizzically. “What?”

“I--I don’t think any of us have actually seen you without your helmet, Sir,” Crail answered him.

Revan frowned, his eyes darkening. “I don’t tend to advertise myself. Sometimes anonymity can be useful. However, I think it’s important for you to see my face right now. To understand that I’m in this with you. We’re all in this equally; just because I’m the Supreme Commander or a Jedi doesn’t mean that I’m magically immune to this situation’s trials.

“I know the situation looks dire. I’m not gonna say it isn’t. I am, quite literally, the only thing keeping this building from falling on top of us, and I can’t hold it forever. It’s probable that the Mandalorians realized their missile didn’t blow up exactly where they programmed it to and are sending someone to finish the job. But I know there’s help on the way, and I know that if we work together, we can find a way out of here. We  _ will _ survive this. Don’t lose hope.”

“Sir,” McFife started, “We’re not exactly the most important--”

_ “Do not finish that sentence,” _ Revan growled. His eyes flashed, and McFife swore they turned a golden yellow for a moment. “I am  _ not _ leaving any of you here. Sometimes we have to make choices in war, but that one I refuse to make. I set out to help as many people as I could, and I  _ can _ help you. Understood?”

Appropriately chagrined, McFife lowered his head, “Of course, Revan, Sir.”

Revan nodded. “Good.”

“Sir,” Crail asked, hesitancy obvious in her voice, “how long can you hold this place up?”

The survivors all looked at Revan. His eyes unfocused, staring into space somewhere far away from mortal eyes, and he was silent for a long moment. “Alek’s on his way with help. The building will hold as long as I can.”

Crail frowned, as unhappy as McFife with the deflecting answer. “How long until he gets here?”

“Starting from when everything exploded? Eight hours.”

* * *

**_343rd Command Post, Avibelle, Althir_ **

**_1412 Hours_ **

“Admiral, we don’t know what sort of state the survivors are in.”

Admiral Dodonna’s hologram seemed to slump. “I wish I could help. I truly,  _ truly _ do, General, but our transports are either in for repairs or committed on the other side of the line.”

Alek clenched his hands into fists behind his back. “How long will it be until you can get me a ship?”

Dodonna glanced at something outside of the transmission field. “At least seven hours. Possibly closer to ten, most of the pilots are at their maximum recommended flight time already. That’s not counting the need to load up supplies when the ship is either back or repaired.”

He added up time. Seven or more hours base, plus at least half an hour of loading troops and medical supplies, and half an hour to get them over there. Eight hours was a generous estimate. “They might not have that long. It’s already been an hour since we lost contact.”

“I know. I’m doing all I can; I need to see them alive just as much as you do, Alek.”

Alek almost growled that she  _ didn’t _ know, but bit it back. She couldn’t  _ possibly _ understand what it was like to have your oldest friend’s, your  _ partner’s _ distress radiating through your mind, overtaking your ability to think, to  _ breathe. _ He forced himself to take a deep breath and unclench his hands. “Ghevro,” he called, “how far can we push the landspeeders?”

His second in command blinked big eyes at him. The question was rather oblique, but as usual, they understood exactly what he was asking. “At top speed, we can get to Sufton in a little under seven hours, including prep time.”

“Get a medical team rounded up and in one, part of Azure Company in another. I’m leaving you in charge of the rest of the unit.” Ghevro saluted and hurried off, already barking orders into their commlink.

Dodonna had a small smile on her face. “Doing it yourself?”

“I can hardly leave them there to wait. When you have that ship, send it straight to forward command.”

“May the Force be with you, General Alek. I hope Revan doesn’t need it.”

* * *

**_Outbound from 343rd Command Post, Avibelle, Althir_ **

**_1426 Hours_ **

Alek shifted in his seat in the speeder as they finally sped away from the command post. Everything had taken too long. Too long to figure out what had happened to forward command, too long to get a team together, too long to load the transports. They should have left an hour ago. If Revan… no. He couldn’t think about that. Revan was going to be alright. 

_ Revelin _ was going to be alright. He was probably sitting in the rubble doing something stupid and self-sacrificing to get everyone else out, but he was going to be fine. He was a Revanchist,  _ the _ Revanchist, Revan, the strongest Jedi the Order had seen since the Hundred-Year Darkness. They all knew the rumors about him, the ones that the Council had all but confirmed before they left: the mysterious, prophesied,  _ Chosen One _ to bring balance to the Force.

Whatever the hell  _ that _ meant. 

Still, the Force probably would not be balanced by a collapsing city.

That fact didn’t stop him from worrying. Closing his eyes, Alek finally took a moment to focus on the distress hanging in the back of his mind. Now that things were in motion, it was easier to do so, to reach out towards the bright presence hanging on the other side of a Force Bond.  _ Rev. Come on, Rev. _

Revelin seemed to notice him, finally, a quick burst of relief against the compartmentalized boxes of other feelings, but was too focused on something else to respond with words. He caught an image of falling, of a hand pushing on a rock, a sense of holding things up. 

Alek resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  _ I’m on my way. _

A nod of the head, a calculation, and a spike of absolute  _ pain  _ behind everything else, barely held back by a shield of dejarik pieces constantly moving against it. Alek grabbed it before it could cut through Revelin’s shields, holding it away with a sense of protective worry encapsulated in the feeling of brushing copper hair from eyes. He could feel Revelin lean into the mental touch, drawing strength from the current of warmth through it.  _ What happened to you? _

Revelin apparently could spare the focus to think  _ Unimportant _ at him very loudly. 

_ Not true. _

There was a sense of waving away that translated roughly to  _ I’m not going to worry you about it. _

_ I’m worrying anyway. _

Revelin sent him a picture of a broken structural beam with rebar sticking out of it with a sense of resignation and the feeling of being  _ stuck _ before waving him away again.

Alek frowned.  _ If you’re trying to tell me it’s just that the building collapsed around you, I don’t believe you.  _

Hands thrown in the air, which was obviously a  _ fine, worry, but I’m not telling you,  _ or maybe a  _ Force, Alek, really? I already told you. _

So, maybe it  _ was _ the fact that the building had come down around the other. Maybe Revelin was stuck under a beam or something, and no one could move it. That didn’t really explain the extent of the pain, but it could explain some of it. Alek sighed and withdrew to his own mind again, resigned to the fact that he couldn’t figure it out until he got to the remains of the command center.

He kept a tight hold on the lance of pain, though, keeping it as far away from Revelin as he could. Only one thing was certain in his mind: if that pain hit Revelin with full force, there wouldn’t be any survivors.

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1454 Hours_ **

“With the repeating blasters Braann found that brings us up to twenty-two guns. We have fourteen people mobile; let’s set up a watch of two people in the antechamber and two upstairs that switches every two hours. Give everyone that’s mobile a blaster and distribute the others to people that the medics clear to sit and shoot if we need a last-ditch.”

McFfie resisted the urge to frown at Revan. “Sir?”

Revan gave him and Crail a wry smile. “You don’t win a war without contingency plans, Colonel. I doubt they’ll be needed, but you never know.”

“You seem awfully certain that the Mandos are coming to finish the job.”

Revan sighed. His left arm twitched like he was going to run a hand through his hair, but it stayed in its awkward position on his stomach. McFife wondered if it was broken or something, but it looked okay, and Revan had taken his helmet off with it earlier… “Look at it this way. The  _ Revanchist _ undoubtedly did a sweep of the area as soon as they could, looking for large life-sign readings. Since General Alek is on his way, they must have found something. Before this place collapsed, the fleet was battling several Mando cruisers with the same capabilities. This outpost held a good chunk of the Republic military leadership, not least of which is myself. If they haven’t already sent troops to finish the job, they will. They might decide to just bomb us again, but if I know Mandalorians, they’ll want to get their hands dirty. I’m honestly a little surprised they threw that missile at us in the first place. So they’re at least coming to check the place out and see if they can find a way in to kill us with beskad and blaster.”

“We didn’t find any way out, though, and you confirmed that with your sense of the building.”

_ “We _ don’t exactly have access to a good chunk of explosives,” Revan pointed out, “and before you ask no, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to manipulate us a path out, not without some help. Despite what certain people say, I do have  _ some _ limits. If they blast us an exit, I might be able to hold it, but that’s a large maybe.”

“Alright, we’ll set up the watches. Anything else, Sir?”

“No. Actually, yes. People are about to be really kriffing bored; see if you can find some pazaak cards or not-shattered dejarik pieces or even a datapad with a book. Anything to keep morale up. And get some food; you two have done good work.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Crail watched McFife stand up and brush dust off his pants. He nodded and turned to the larger group of people in the room. She, meanwhile, turned to Revan. “If you don’t mind me saying, Sir, you seem a lot better than when we first found you.”

Revan gave her a smile. “People around helps. It’s easier to focus my abilities when I’ve got something around to guide me.”

Crail smiled back. “I’m glad we can help. You should still get some rest, Sir, as much as you can.”

Revan closed his eyes and leaned his head back against a slab of duracrete. “We’ll see.” 

He spoke no further, seemingly slipping into some sort of Jedi trance. Crail sat there for a moment, studying him. Revan’s face was scrunched up slightly, a look of intense focus even when not entirely conscious of the world. His hair was sticky with sweat and obviously tangled from being swept up in his helmet. She had to wonder how often he took the thing off. Did he sleep in it? She was almost,  _ almost _ tempted to pick it up, to peer inside and see what the great Revanchist saw every waking moment, but stopped herself.

“Please just take care of yourself, Sir,” she muttered to him before picking herself off the ground and going in search of some sort of entertainment for the people. It was going to be a very long few hours.

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1527 Hours_ **

Crail peered over McFife’s shoulder and at the cards in his hand. Some people were fitfully sleeping, others having quiet conversations, and someone had even managed to find a datapad with a selection of books. The dramatic reading of  _ Force, I Hate My Moon _ was just starting on the upper floor, laughter ringing out through the cracks in the building as Braann and Schare gave the main characters increasingly nasally falsettos. 

As for her, someone had managed to find a pazaak main deck in the pocket of one of the dead soldiers while they were moving the bodies into an out of the way corner; in response, several more had produced their own side decks. She’d let McFife borrow hers after a few games and was stumbling through guiding him how to play. It proved to be great entertainment for anyone who knew how to play, which given this army was rather a lot. 

“You’re at sixteen. I suppose you  _ could _ draw, but I don’t recommend it.”

“I have four more points to make.”

Her lekku twitched with exasperation, and she rubbed at the crack in her montrail. “Yeah, but the highest negative card you have in your hand is a  _ one. _ Kav’ahh here is still at twelve.”

The Bothan smirked at them, amusement evident on her face. “I think you should let him draw. The only way he’ll learn is if he loses a few times.”

“Kriff it, fine, draw,” Crail told him, hands in the air.

McFife drew the next card and placed it by the rest of his hand. Kav’ahh burst out laughing. Crail sighed. “I  _ told _ you.”

“Well how was I supposed to know it was a ten!”

“Do you consider counting cards cheating?”

The onlookers turned with the pazaak players to the new voice in the conversation. Revan’s eyes were still closed, but there was a small smirk on his lips, and his head was tilted towards them in question. “Well, Sir,  _ technically _ it’s not an illegal move, but it is frowned upon,” Crail started, “However, basically anything goes in Republic Senate rules.”

One of Revan’s eyes opened, grey peeking out with clear amusement. “So, if one of you was thinking  _ really loudly _ how many cards of each set had already been played in the round, and probably knew the likelihood of a ten popping up, then in all fairness you should teach the other to count, right?”

Kav’ahh clearly resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Here, Crail, let me teach him that. Unless you want to join in, Sir?”

Revan closed his eyes again and shook his head slightly. “I’m terrible at pazaak.”

Crail laughed. “Sir, you can’t be  _ that _ bad.”

“Let’s just say the one time my friends convinced me to play Nar Shaddaa rules, I was wearing distinctly fewer clothes than them. Now, if someone managed to find a working dejarik board, I’d  _ consider _ it.”

The image of Revan,  _ the Revanchist, _ stripped down to his underwear and sitting over a game of pazaak caused most of the assembled to burst into laughter. The idea was just too absurd to be true. “Well, I’ll let you know if we find one, Sir.”

* * *

**_En Route to Forward Command Center, Althir_ **

**_1603 Hours_ **

Alek woke from a trance-haze to the beeping of his commlink. He scrabbled for it for a moment before flipping it on. “Alek.”

“Oh thank the Force it actually worked. Dodonna was worried you were too out in the middle of nowhere for your comms to have a relay near.”

“Jay!” Alek sat up straighter, wearing his first smile since he lost contact with Revan. “I’m assuming you already know what’s going on.”

Jay sighed, the breath hissing against her comm’s microphone. “I know that about three hours ago, I started feeling a rather lot of distress in the back of my head. I originally called to give Rev a report about Vorzyd and tell him the  _ Defiance _ is on its way back, and, well. Dodonna told me what happened, but I wanted to talk to you. Even with my abilities, I can’t get much other than distress from him; you’re a lot closer.”

Alek rubbed at his eyes. “He’s-- he won’t tell me.”

“Oh  _ that’s _ reassuring.”

“Very. From what I could glean, he’s holding something up and being his usual self. That’s taking a lot of power, even for him. He couldn’t even give me full answers when I reached out. Just images and a general sense of the exasperated movements he would be making.”

He got the sense Jay was biting her lip. “That doesn’t explain…  _ that.” _

Alek glanced around the landspeeder. He was in the passenger seat of the front, the only person capable of overhearing him the pilot, but he lowered his voice and used a trickle of his Force power to make a sort of shield between him and the pilot that would drop it even more to her ears. “I think he’s hurt. He’s in pain and doing a poor job of shielding it from the bonds. I’m doing what I can to help, but it’s still affecting him. I don’t know if he’s stuck under something or-- or something worse.”

“How long until you get to him?”

He glanced at the chrono. “Five and a half hours assuming we don’t run into any trouble.”

“Alright. I’ll do what I can to help him; I’m stuck in hyperspace for the next few hours. You just… just hurry.”

“I will.”

“And, Alek?”

“Yes, Jay?”

“He’ll be fine. He’s Rev.”

He smiled, small and sad and wistful. “I know. Don’t push yourself too hard.”

“I make no promises. I love you. Jay out.”

* * *

**_Aboard the_ ** **Defiance,** **_exiting orbit around Vorzyd_ **

**_1605 Hours_ **

Many systems away, Jay rubbed her eyes and sat heavily on her bed. Talking to Alek had just made her more worried. With a sigh, she switched her comm back to shipboard comms and tapped in the correct number for the bridge. “Captain Zarem,” a smooth Commenor accent came back.

“Captain, would you please alert me when we reach Althir, or if the  _ Revanchist _ or  _ Leviathan _ call? You might need to send someone to knock on the door.”

Zarem’s smile was audible. “Planning on sleeping that soundly, General Brelle?”

“I wish. Let’s call it a weird Jedi thing.”

“Weird Jedi thing it is. We should be at Althir in eight standard hours. I’ll come wake you up when we’re there. Bridge out.”

Jay had her mouth open to retort that he didn’t need to come  _ personally, _ but Zarem closed the connection before she had a chance. She rolled her eyes at her Captain’s insistence and threw the comm onto her desk. If she hadn’t seen how absolutely confused Zarem tended to be about romance, she would have sworn he had a crush on her. He probably  _ had _ when she’d first commandeered the  _ Defiance, _ hell half the navy seemed to when they swept in, the Revanchists with swirling robes and singing lightsabers in their hands and her, Revan’s right-hand, appearing on his bridge like an angel of the Force.

And then she’d accidentally signed off a meeting with “love you” to Revelin and Alek, and Zarem had spent the next two hours snickering at her embarrassed blush. 

But she digressed, and that train of thought brought her back to why she was secluded in her room for the next few hours. Jay settled into a meditation position and sank into the Force, reaching out over her Force bonds with Revelin and Alek. She was still too far away to make a difference, even with her affinity for Force bonds, but as the  _ Defiance _ sped through hyperspace, she would be steadily more able to help. Hopefully, Alek would get to Revelin before her help became necessary.

So she waited, black and blood-red robes pooled around her, and trusted in her partners’ abilities.

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1717 Hours_ **

McFife was in the upper area of their temporary abode, helping the medics with a few of the more injured survivors when he noticed Crail looking up at the sky, an odd look on her face. “Crail?”

“That doesn’t sound like a speeder.”

_ “Brace!” _

The authoritative shout from below had everyone diving to the floor, gripping onto whatever piece of the walls they could get their fingers around. The sky filled with the whine of engines, and suddenly the building was shaking with concussive blasts. Dust and small bits of debris rained down around them, filling the air with a fine mist of stuff nobody should have been breathing in. The only thing that could be heard was the loud crashes of what he was pretty sure were starfighter cannons.

In what could have been seconds or minutes or hours, an explosion sounded somewhere above them, and the whine of engines faded into the distance. McFife clambered to his feet and took stock of what had changed. The answer was, surprisingly, not much. A new layer of dust was settling on the ground and a few more chunks of duracrete were lying on the floor, but from what he could see, no one was newly injured. The makeshift ceiling looked extra dented in the middle, but it was holding.

“Crail,” he called when he saw the Togruta push herself back upright, “make sure everyone’s alright up here. I’m going to check the lower floor.

“Yessir.”

The stairs were covered in pebbles. One step had broken off and tumbled into the dark abyss below it, but the extra jump needed wasn’t too bad. McFife made his way through the antechamber, checking on people as he went. Most people just looked shaken and covered in dust.

Except, of course, for Revan. The Supreme Commander looked paler than he had, and his eyes were squeezed shut, face pinched in concentration. “Sir?”

“Fine,” Revan ground out. “Got… a new… hood ornament.”

“…Hood ornament?”

Revan jerked his head towards the sky. “Basilisk wing. I think. Tried… deflect it… didn’t do… more than… slow down. Least didn’t… crush us?”

Ah, the dent in the ceiling. “Is there some way for us to get it off?”

Revan jerked his head no. “Give me… minutes… get a… handle… again. Be fine. Help… others. Maybe… sweep.”

McFife decided that if Revan was making jokes about sweeping, he was probably fine. “Alright, Sir. Let us know if there’s anything we can do to help.”

Revan ignored him, or maybe was back in a Force trance already, all his attention on the building around them. McFife watched him for a few more moments, noting just how concerningly pale Revan looked. He’d looked pale when he’d first taken off the helmet, which could be chalked up to the fact that no one had seen him without the helmet in public since he’d led half the Order to war, but something was nagging at him that that wasn’t the entire story. Revan looked paler than when he’d first taken the helmet off. On a battlefield, there was any number of things that could cause that, from exhaustion to hypovolemic shock. But Revan had said that there wasn’t anything the medics could do for him, and he wasn’t lying about that, right?

He must just be exhausted. Force knew how much energy he was expending to keep the building from collapsing on them. Revan was fine, and that meant everyone else was going to be fine.

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1846 Hours_ **

McFife did, in fact, sweep.

Crail raised an eyebrow as she watched him wipe dust and sweat that had melded into a sort of mud on his face off. Silently she handed him a ration pack; he leaned the half-destroyed broom someone had found against the wall. “Thanks.”

“You know, there’s other people that could be sweeping. You could take a break.”

McFife shrugged and glanced at the people crowding around their food supplies. “I need to keep busy.”

“Even the best commanders have to know when to take breaks.”

He snorted, mumbling “Tell that to Revan” at a volume that only Crail’s enhanced hearing could pick up.

She raised an eyemarking. “Care to explain, Sir?”

McFife paused, ration halfway to his mouth. “Ah, you heard that?”

She tapped her montrails. “I hear a lot. Don’t worry, I won’t tell him unless it’s vital.”

He had a sheepish look as he lowered the ration and looked down at the floor. If Crail had the place correct in her head, he was looking down at approximately where Revan was sitting on the lower floor. Quietly, he started, “I just-- he looks  _ exhausted. _ How long has he been holding this place up? Five hours? Closer to six? And how tired was he before this happened? How much longer can he really keep this up? I know he’s a Jedi, and I’ve seen him in action enough to know what he’s capable of, but this? I don’t know, Crail. I don’t think this is something a Jedi is even  _ supposed _ to be able to do. But the fact that he  _ is _ doing it, and that somehow he’s  _ still _ doing it… it’s a little bit frightening.”

Crail pursed her lips, thinking that over. “I got transferred from the 67th just before this campaign. I saw General Velt in action, right up to eyr end. Ey were capable of amazing feats, but… none of it was like what Revan’s doing right now. I’ve heard rumors from the other Jedi about him, something about some Jedi prophecy that comes around in times of great turmoil. A lot of them seem to think he’s… more powerful than them, I guess. I think a lot of  _ them _ are scared of him. And we’ve all seen how the Mandos react to him.”

McFife nodded. “Like izaz from a kath hound.”

“I was thinking banthas from a krayt dragon, but that works.”

He snorted. “Okay yeah, that image is better. But the izaz fight back, I don’t think banthas do.”

“They leave sacrificial banthas behind.”

“Really?”

Crail shrugged. “Tatooine is a bantha-eat-bantha world. The three months I spent there were the worst. I don’t even know why the Mandos  _ bothered. _ I guess what I was trying to say is that until General Alek gets here, there probably isn’t anything we can do for him or anything we can convince him to do.”

McFife sighed. “I know. That’s why I’m sweeping.”

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1855 Hours_ **

“Sir?”

Crail watched Revan slowly blink his eyes open. He hadn’t spoken or moved much at all since the starfighter battle had shaken the building. “Hm?”

“We’re digging into the food stores. Do you want some?”

He closed his eyes and shook his head slowly. “M’fine. Wouldn’t mind… some water.”

She had a whole spiel about food and energy, but it died in her throat. Who would dare tell the Revanchist what to do, even if it was for his own good? As much as McFife was right about the Supreme Commander’s exhaustion, she was also right: there was no way they were getting him to do something he didn’t think was necessary. With a sigh, she stood from her crouch. “I’ll see what I can do.”

A search of their rations turned up a few water packs that weren’t damaged; she took one for herself and one for Revan before pointing them out to the lieutenant in charge of the food. Maneuvering down the increasingly treacherous stairs, she froze when she got to Revan. His face was pinched in concentration, eyes open and staring into nothing. “Sir?”

He looked up at her, an eerie lucidity in his eyes, and a note of something colder than silver. “Get McFife. Something’s coming, and it’s not Alek.”

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1911 Hours_ **

The first explosion merely rocked the building, sending everyone tensing to grab onto something and raise their pistols into defensive positions. They stood or sat frozen, glancing between the minuscule cracks in the walls where the fading light of Althir’s blue sun shone. For long moments, nothing moved.

The second blew a hole in the west wall.

Debris went flying through the room, destroying the makeshift table and slamming into a few people. McFife ducked under a piece and heard a cut-off scream as a piece impaled the soldier in front of him. He hauled himself to the other side of his makeshift cover and twisted to face the hole. A low laugh filtered through a helmet as the smoke cleared to reveal a distinctive T-shaped visor and purple and white armor. “Bid ulike cuyir su oyayc, vode!”

The Mando’a words sailed right over his head, but the general tone of mocking told him enough. Two Mandalorians stepped into the gap behind the first one. Hesitating just a moment, straining to hear if any others were jetpacking up into the hole, McFife raised his blaster over his small bit of cover. “Now!”

Every weapon in the room lit up, slamming into the Mandos with a dozen bolts at once. The one in yellow stumbled back, the volley catching her in the joints of her chestplate, but the other two opened fire unaffected. McFife ducked back behind cover and glanced at the other side of the room. Revan was barely visible behind the debris he was still leaning on, face impassive with his eyes closed, but McFife knew how much tension the other was holding in coiled limbs. 

Another yell jolted his attention to the soldiers behind him; two were hauling another with a blaster burn on the side of her face into the antechamber that was now effectively the back of the room. He peeked over his cover and considered the three Mandalorians. They were advancing steadily, barely slowed at all by the barrage of blaster fire. The yellow one stepped forward at an order from the purple one, her blaster sweeping across the chamber. Two more Republic soldiers fell with blaster burns through their armor. The one in orange hung back, taking potshots intermittently but seemingly fiddling with something in their hand. They turned slightly to talk to the one in purple, revealing the jetpack on their back. He squinted at it, trying to figure out why something about it looked odd.

“Fall back to the antechamber!” a voice called. 

McFife snapped his head around to look at Revan. His eyes were cold and calculating, almost to the point of seeming discolored. McFife nodded, gesturing the people around him backward. “You heard the Commander. Keep behind as much cover as you can.” The others started moving, but he stayed where he was. The Supreme Commander’s eyes narrowed as he watched, glaring across the room at the Colonel. McFife shook his head but was too far away to share his plan with Revan without giving away his position. He had a moment to think about the fact that this was the sort of move that would either get him a medal or demoted to kitchen duty for the rest of the war before the Mando in orange appeared in his vision.

It took one shot to the broken part of their jetpack for an explosion to rip through their armor, painting the walls a bright orange-white. McFife curled into a ball in the corner, managing to hide from the worst of it, but the fireball licked a burning stripe across his side anyway. He hissed as he uncurled, pulling the burns in directions that he immediately regretted. A shadow fell over him and he looked up, hoping for red and black and finding something very different.

The purple-clad Mando lifted him bodily by the neck and swung him so he was acting as a shield between her and the blasters poking out of the antechamber. He caught a glimpse of the yellow armored one falling to the ground with two soldiers on her back before his view was overtaken by a black visor. “You. You wear the bars of a colonel. Do you lead them? I don’t think so. Where is he?”

McFife scrabbled at the hand around his throat, struggling for air. Even if his brain hadn’t been oxygen-deprived, he had a feeling the question wouldn’t make sense. “Who?” he managed to gasp out.

“Your  _ jetii-striil.” _

“I--” he wheezed.

_ “Where is Revan.” _

He barely resisted the urge to glance over at where he’d last seen Revan. “I--don’t--know.”

The Mandalorian snarled.  _ “Liar. Where is he.” _

A shout of  _ “Olar, shabuir,” _ preceded a distinctive snap-hiss and a blade of sapphire blue plasma spearing through the Mandalorian’s neck armor and coming out the other side. As he collapsed to his knees, McFife glanced over at Revan and swore his eyes were colored gold.

And then, of course, the west wall came crashing down. 

Still gasping, McFife scrambled towards Revan and out of the way of falling chunks of duracrete. Both of Revan’s hands shot into the air with a grasping motion, face tilted upwards and eyes wide open but focused on nothing at all. Almost immediately, the building froze, pieces of rebar and duracrete dust floating meters from any support. Slowly, gently, like they were moving through deep water, everything moved to the edges of the room and settled to the ground. The entire west side of the building was a collapsed mash of girders and rubble with no hope of squeezing through.

“That. Was.  _ Stupid,”  _ Revan hissed.

McFife turned to face him. “Sorry, Sir.” He coughed, trying to brush away the remnants of the choke-hold. “I didn’t think anyone had noticed the broken jetpack.”

Revan closed his eyes, hands still in the air. “Doesn’t… mean… not… stupid.”

McFife was about to ask what the next course of action was, given there was no longer a hole to get through, when he noticed something sluggishly flowing down Revan’s left glove. If it had been anyone else, he would have grabbed it to check, but he settled for leaning in slightly. He didn’t like what he saw. “Sir, there’s blood on your glove.”

“I’m… fine.”

He turned from the soiled glove to analyze the rest of the Supreme Commander. Revan’s face was unnaturally pale, almost sickly looking, arms shaking as he held them aloft. His breathing was coming in short gasps that sounded almost painful. “All due respect, I don’t think you are.”

Revan was silent. Whether it was because he was ignoring the colonel or because he didn’t have the energy to was unclear, but McFife would hazard a bet on both. He stood and turned towards the antechamber and the stairs. “I’m bringing a medic--”

“Don’t.”

He whirled back around. “What do you mean,  _ don’t?” _

“Nothing… they… can… help.”

“Then  _ show me.” _

Revan was silent again for a long moment. McFife was about to turn back to marching right up the stairs to the medics when Revan whispered: “Under… chestplate.” McFife crouched down to examine the other’s chestplate. Instead of finding anything wrong with it, his eye caught on something shiny between his chestplate and belt.

A piece of rebar, covered in blood, had ripped its way through the back of Revan’s robes and extended a centimeter or two beyond his stomach. It looked raw like it had been aggravated when Revan threw the lightsaber to save him. “Oh Force. Sir, you have to--”

“No. Hurt… bad… for morale. Need… morale… or… collapse. Medpack… kriff… Force… connect.”

“Sir, you have to consider blood loss--”

“Force.”

McFife glared at him. “The Force can’t give you lost blood back while you’re still bleeding, I know that much. Not even you can be all-powerful.”

“Slowing. Have… help.”

“From  _ what?” _

“Force… bonds.”

McFife sighed. “You’re really not going to let the medics look even if I get them, are you?”

“C’rect.”

“Alright. Fine. Just… just tell me if there’s anything I can do to help, okay? And, for the good of the Republic, I have to tell you to take care of yourself too.”

Revan managed a small smile as he lowered his hands to the positions they’d been in before the wall caved in. “Try.”

“Am I allowed to call you an idiot for hiding this?”

“Only… if… you’re… Alek’r… Jay.”

“Fair enough.”

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_1943 hours_ **

Crail crossed her arms and lowered her head as Kav’ahh continued her muted report. “Four more dead, everyone’s more hurt. The Colonel’s one of the worst off given his burns; it’s a wonder he was still moving at all after that blast and being choked by a Mando. We lost half the foodstuffs when the wall came down. Ennyu checked out the Mando’s comms; apparently, their armor has a dead-man’s switch that fries the electronics. Pretty clever, but useless to us.”

She rubbed at her cracked montrail. “Alright. Thank you, Kav’ahh. What time is it?”

“Dunno. Hey, Triddot! What time is it?”

The Nautolan wiped dust off their only working chrono. “1943.”

Six and a half hours. If Revan’s estimate was still correct, they only had an hour and a half to go trapped under several dozen tons of durasteel and duracrete held up by the power of one person’s mind. 

Wonderful.

“Where’s the Colonel?”

“Jazoc told him to sit down. I’m assuming he’s still over by Revan.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant. Let me know if anything changes or you need me for anything.” With a nod from Kav’ahh, Crail made her way down the increasingly rickety steps to the lower floor. Several of the wounded were still in the antechamber, unconscious or sleeping fitfully. Further in, some people huddled around the flickering, broken glow rod, gazing at each other like ghosts over a fire. 

McFife was huddled by the south wall, a meter or two away from Revan. What she could see of his left arm was wrapped in every spare bandage they had, which still wasn’t enough to cover the blackened burns. Crail squatted in front of him, lips pulled into a frown. “How’re you feeling?”

“Well, it doesn’t hurt. I’ll probably end up with permanent scarring unless someone magics up a kolto tank ten minutes ago.”

She patted his unburnt knee. “You should probably get some sleep.”

McFife grumbled, “That’s what Jazoc said” and fell silent for a moment. Crail followed his gaze over to the Supreme Commander. “Hey, Crail, can you do me a favor?”

“What?”

He lowered his voice. “Keep an eye on him. He’s… a little more than exhausted.”

She looked back at Revan’s unnaturally pale face. “I will.”

* * *

**_En Route to Forward Command Center, Althir_ **

**_2046 Hours_ **

This was not the first time Alek had used a Force bond to provide strength to another, but it was the longest. He found himself drifting in and out of what amounted to a restorative trance, but it wasn’t in his own mind. 

Revelin had stopped responding to his mental prods somewhere around two hours ago. His mind had become almost nothing but a picture of the building he was trapped in. Every half-supported beam and broken duracrete chunk was outlined in a glow of Force power, strings attaching them with a stronger glue than anything conventional wisdom could provide.

The only thing that wasn’t was the shard of pain. It was stronger than it had been, sharper, edges of it breaking through Revelin’s dejarik shields. Even Alek’s help and the gentle encouragement from Jay, steadily growing stronger as the  _ Defiance _ sped through hyperspace, could no longer hold it back. It had concerned Alek when he first felt it, but it was even worse now. It grew stronger and stronger as Revelin exhausted himself, slowly eating away at his ability to keep the command center from falling down around him. Alek was convinced it wasn’t just because the other was trapped or that something was keeping him pinned. There had to be something else going on.

He was jolted from his trance by his comm squawking. “Dodonna to Alek. General, you awake?”

“Alek here,” he said, pulling the comm off his belt, “What do you need?”

“I’ve got a medevac shuttle and two medics free. I’m dispatching them down to Sufton now.”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Roger that, Admiral. My team has an ETA of twenty minutes to the base; tell the team we’ll meet them there.”

* * *

**_Forward Command Center, Sufton, Althir_ **

**_2100 hours_ **

Crail was trying not to look like she was hovering. From the way that McFife kept giving her raised eyebrows when he was awake, she wasn’t doing a very good job.

McFife had slipped in and out of consciousness since she’d talked with him, huddled under a blanket to try and keep the dust off his burns. His status hadn’t changed other than that. Revan was a harder puzzle to figure out. She wasn’t entirely sure if it was the blue light of the glow rod washing him out, or he really was deathly pale. He hadn’t moved at all, not even to talk to anyone, since he’d gotten ahold of the building again. The only sign that he hadn’t died on them was the too-rapid rise and fall of his chest. Well, that and the fact that the building hadn’t collapsed on them yet. 

Hence the hovering.

They were coming up on the predicted time for a rescue mission to get to them. Nighttime meant their only early-warning system for anything coming near, whether it was General Alek or another Mandalorian raiding party, was Revan’s Force abilities. Hovering, she argued with herself, made it so that Revan didn’t have to expend more energy on relaying information to an officer. If he spent less energy, he could hold the building up longer, and they had a higher chance of rescue.

That didn’t mean she didn’t jump half a meter in the air when Revan finally whispered her name.

Crail crouched down next to him. “Yes, Sir?”

Grey eyes blinked open to blearily half-focus somewhere near her. “Mando… Alek… close.”

“How close?”

An explosion rattled the building and knocked her off her feet.

Well, that answered that question. “Battlestations!” she yelled, pushing herself back up. Around her, the survivors that could move hurried to cover, running on adrenaline and painkillers. McFife jolted awake and reached for his blaster as he attempted to stand up. Crail gave him a glare to which he huffed but sat down.

Revan closed his eyes again and tensed. “Going… above.”

“Who’s good to get up the stairs?” About half the people in the room raised their hands. “Let’s go. Everyone else, make a redoubt down here. Look before you shoot and shoot them where it hurts.”

A chorus of “Sir, yes, Sir!” followed her up the rickety stairs. Kav’ahh stood by the door at the top, pressed against the wall. “I take it we should stay up here?”

“Yeah. You three, reinforce the position on the north side. You two with me. We just have to last until General Alek gets here.”

Kav’ahh raised an eyebrow. “And when will that be?”

Crail bit her lip. “Soon.”

She and the other soldiers that had come from downstairs had just settled behind makeshift cover when a chunk of the east wall blew in. A square of duracrete slammed through the building before hitting the remains of the command table and shattering into a thousand tiny shards. A Mandalorian in grey armor landed in the dust left behind, two pistols already extended and a beskad on his back. “Give me Revan, and I’ll give you warrior’s deaths.”

The only response they gave was a hail of blaster fire. Several shots hit the Mandalorian’s chestplate, which did nothing more than cause him to shift his feet into a better stance. “Fine then. Prepare to die.”

Crail ducked back behind cover, tracking the Mandalorian’s movements by the vibrations in the floor. “Crail,” Kav’ahh called, “where’s the rest?”

“What?”

“Scouting parties are usually in sets of three. There’s only one up here.”

She frowned, trying to focus on the vibrations and noises hitting her montrails. The damaged one was throwing her off, but she swore there was another, fainter set of blaster fire. A heavy thud made its way through the rest of the noise, startling her into poking her head over cover to try and place it.

Another figure had landed behind the Mandalorian, his armor a distinctive red and bald head covered in sky-blue tattoos. A metal cylinder was in his outstretched right hand. With a press of a button and a welcome snap-hiss, azure plasma swept up through the advancing Mandalorian’s elbow.

* * *

Alek didn’t wait for the landspeeder to stop before he jumped out through the open roof. A Force push threw the two Mandalorians that had turned to face him off their feet. Three more hurriedly formed a protective phalanx around themselves. Blaster bolts rained down around him, both from his troops and the Mandalorians in front of him. He extended a hand with the thought of  _ stop;  _ not a single bolt made it through. Leaving the phalanx for his troops, he ran after the Mandalorian in grey currently landing in the hole he’d made in the wall.

_ Hang on, _ he thought at the Force bond. Revelin didn’t respond, which spurred Alek on faster. Blaster bolts shot through the opening in the wall. Growling, Alek pushed himself upwards with help from the Force.

The Mandalorian didn’t know what hit him. As soon as Alek landed, he had his lightsaber activated and sweeping upwards, cutting through the other’s armor’s elbow joint. He didn’t even have time to scream before Alek’s lightsaber was slashing through his neck armor. The Mandalorian fell to the ground with a final gurgle.

“General Alek!”

Alek spared a glance for his forces on the ground, which were dealing with the other Mandalorians quite well, before he turned to the speaker. A red-skinned Togruta wearing a dusty major’s bar stood from behind a pile of rubble. She saluted, drawing his attention to the nick in her montrail. It looked like it  _ hurt, _ but she was one of the few in the room who was actually standing. “Major. Where’s Revan?”

“Downstairs, Sir. He’s busy keeping this place from falling. General Naniin’s dead and Colonel McFife’s incapacitated; I’m currently the ranking officer.”

“Take me to Revan.”

She obliged, leading him down the falling-down staircase and through a room that looked like it had been carved out of the debris. A Stewjoni Human wearing a Colonel’s bar and sporting a sickening burn on his left arm and leg sat up straighter when he saw him, but Alek ignored him. His target was leaning against a pile of rubble, helmet somewhat surprisingly off and eyes closed.

Kneeling down, he looked over Revelin’s mostly still form. It took a moment to see in the low light, but he found the source of the pain he’d been feeling over the bond since this had all started. The piece of rebar was covered in dried blood; fresh blood was slowly leaking around it. Cursing himself and the situation and Revelin’s martyr complex, Alek placed a hand next to it and closed his eyes. Sinking into the Force, he focused on his bond with Revelin, on the undercurrent of love and affection that made it stronger and used it to channel his emotions. The capillaries under his hand tightened, cutting the flow of blood to almost a stop, while frayed nerve endings twined together again, and pain sensors were blocked from transmitting. 

Alek opened his eyes to see silver-grey looking back at him. Revelin was breathing slightly easier, but still far too shallowly. “There you are.”

“Hey… Alek.”

“I’m going to call you an idiot when this is over.”

“Note…ed.”

Revelin’s presence finally flowed over the bond. Alek swept him up in his own current, folding the sense of affection he was using to keep Revelin’s injury stable around his mind. Revelin immediately relaxed into it. Some of the tension bled out of his shoulders as Alek’s power shored up his shields and wrapped around the javelin of pain still threatening to take the building down around them. Revelin was so exhausted it almost made Alek want to cry. “Just hang on, Rev.”

He didn’t respond verbally, but Alek caught the impression of rolled eyes and a sense of weary resignation. 

“Yeah, I know. Do you think I can move you now?”

An image of his helmet and a sense of  _ last. _

“Rev--”

“Move… place… comes… down.”

Alek sighed, glancing at the piece of rebar. Revelin was probably right that moving would cause him to lose focus, and the place would come crashing down around their heads. He wouldn’t be surprised if moving caused Revelin to pass out, whether from pain or blood loss. “Alright. Crail?”

Crail straightened from where she’d been talking to McFife. “Sir?”

“Get me a list of survivors and who’s capable of walking under their own power. Medevac shuttle to the  _ Revanchist _ should be here any moment.”

Crail saluted and turned to one of the lieutenants around her, a Bothan woman. Alek used his free hand to pop his commlink off his belt. “Medevac shuttle, what’s your ETA?”

“I can see the remains of the building. Damn, is Revan really holding that much up?”

Alek blinked at the comm for a moment. “Dodonna?”

“I wasn’t kidding when I said our pilots are tired. It was either me, or you wait another two hours, and somehow I didn’t think you wanted to wait. The Mando fleet’s been quiet; even if they try anything, Araje can handle it.”

Alek glanced back at Revelin. He’d closed his eyes again, deathly pale face no longer interrupted by warm grey. “A correct assumption. Can you hover the ship by the entrance the Mandos blew?”

“Certainly. I’ll give your med team a lift up.”

“Roger that. See you in a minute. Alek out.” 

Alek stayed with Revelin while the medics collected the other survivors into the waiting shuttle. Some managed to walk with a little support from others, but many were strapped to hovergurneys and carefully navigated through the rubble. At one point, one of the stairs broke underneath one of the medics and would have sent them tumbling into the abyss of the broken stairwell were it not for Revelin and Alek both grasping it in the Force. Crail and McFife were the last to leave, the former somewhat reluctantly trailing the hovergurney of the latter after Alek had told her to go. 

Eventually, the only ones left were Alek and Revelin. “You ready?”

Revelin’s response was a definite  _ No _ over the bond.

Alek picked up Revelin’s helmet and gently maneuvered it back onto his head. “Sorry. I’m not going to be able to stop this from hurting, but I can’t cut the rebar without moving you forward enough that I can get my lightsaber in there.”

His mind was filled with an image of Revelin’s shoto, its blade slightly thinner than a regular lightsaber. 

“Oh, good point.” Alek clipped his lightsaber back to his belt and took Revelin’s shoto from his. “Would telling you to brace help?”

A shrug of  _ Probably not. _

“On three. One. Two.  _ Three.” _

Alek lit the lightsaber, the shorter blade of sapphire plasma sending eerie shadows across the darkened room. Quickly, he shifted Revelin forward just enough to see the rebar on the other side and slipped the lightsaber between him and the debris. Revelin hissed and the building faltered. A large chunk of the ceiling fell behind them with a resounding crash. 

Knowing he couldn’t cause any more damage at this point, Alek hooked the shoto to his belt and slipped his arms under Revelin. He stood, using the Force to augment his capabilities as Revelin’s head lolled against his shoulder. A Force-assisted leap had them on the upper level as more parts of the building folded in on itself. The medevac shuttle shied away from the building as the Basilisk wing shuddered through the ceiling. Alek ducked around it, feet slipping on pebbles. He could feel Revelin losing his grip on consciousness along with the building. A final leap ended on the deck of the shuttle.

Medics swarmed him as he settled Revelin on a gurney. He shifted mostly out of their way, but kept a hand on Revelin’s shoulder, healing energy in his hand. Alek felt the moment Revelin slipped out of consciousness altogether, but there was still strength there, still  _ life. _ He would be okay once they got to the  _ Revanchist. _

And then the people that had done this would  _ pay. _

* * *

**_Rainburgh, Althir_ **

**_Five Days Later_ **

Jay spun her lightsaber in a perfect flower, deflecting bolts with the left side of her lightsaber as the right side carved through a Mandalorian’s neck armor. Finally given a moment to catch her breath, she backed up and flipped over a half-destroyed wall that was part of the company’s temporary cover. “You know, Alek, I don’t think this plan survived first contact!”

Alek glared at her from the other side of a gap in the wall. “I think I  _ realized _ that!”

“Just making sure!”

“Do you see a way to get to the last of the concussion missiles?”

Jay shut her lightsaber off and peeked around the wall. Over the past few days, her and Alek’s troops had cut through the Mandalorian lines, striking at the concussion missile emplacements along the line Revelin had pointed out before he got a building dropped on him. Commando troops, led by Knights Del and Jujel, had managed to find the placement of five different installations within cities; the one in Rainburgh was the last. Apparently, however, the Mandalorians had more troops left than intel said they did, and had fortified the coastal town of Rainburgh far beyond predicted levels.

Hence, the current situation of her, Alek, and Azure Company’s penetration mission turning into a drawn-out battle. 

“Don’t think so. There’s too many Mandos to slice through without some major losses.”

“Dual Force push?”

Jay raised an eyebrow. “Do  _ you _ have the reserves left to do that without straining yourself into unconsciousness? I’ve gotten a full night’s sleep in the past five days, you haven’t.”

Alek huffed. He knew that she could feel just how low his reserves really were over their bond; he’d been leading the battle since the attack on the forward command center had taken Revelin out of the game. “No. Call Dodonna; maybe we can get some reinforcements down here.”

“Got it.” She crouched down and pulled her comm out while Alek stood, batting blaster bolts back to their shooters. “General Brelle to Admiral Dodonna, do you copy?”

“This is Dodonna. If you’re asking for reinforcements, they should be there momentarily.”

Jay blinked at her comm for a moment. Alek ducked behind the wall again and looked at her. “Did I hear that right?”

“How did--what?”

“He said you’d need them.”

She was about to ask what that meant when the familiar whine of gunship engines sounded overhead. A single gunship swung over their heads and opened its doors. Jay and Alek both looked over the wall as it did so. A dozen soldiers in Republic red and yellow rappelled down from the side facing them, while a figure jumped out the other side.

A very familiar figure wearing black robes and distinctive red armor landed with a powerful Force push.

The Mandalorian troops stumbled backward or were knocked off their feet. As they picked themselves up, the figure rose from his landing crouch. Two sapphire blue lightsabers ignited in his hands; he twirled one as his modulated voice called, “So, who’s first?”

Long seconds passed, the only sound the hum of the Revanchist’s lightsabers. 

Slowly, the Mandalorians lowered their weapons to the ground and put their hands above their heads. 

“That’s what I thought. McFife, arrange these wonderful people a temporary place to sit. Crail, your team is on the concussion missiles.”

The troops he’d brought with him turned to their duties as Revelin powered down his lightsabers and spun to face his two top generals. “Good to see you two in one piece.”

“Are you  _ insane?” _ Alek hissed as they approached, “There’s no way you’re cleared from medbay.”

Revelin shrugged. “I got bored.”

_ “Bored?” _

“Alek, I spent three days in a bacta tank and another day and a half in a healing trance. I’m fine.”

“And no one tried to  _ stop _ you?”

Jay gave Alek a long look. “Do  _ you _ want to be the one keeping Revan in medbay when he doesn’t want to be?”

“I’ve  _ been _ the one keeping him in medbay! So have you!”

“Yeah,  _ before _ he became Supreme Commander of the Republic military.”

Alek rubbed his hands over his face. “Rev, I love you, but I have been saving up calling you an idiot for five days, and this  _ isn’t helping.” _

Jay got the sense Revelin was grinning under the helmet. “Go ahead.”

“You are an  _ idiot.” _

“Feel better?”

Alek glared at him, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe.”

Jay clapped Revelin on the shoulder. “Well,  _ I’m _ glad to see you up and about. Nice entrance.”

Revelin visibly preened. “Thank you. I’ve found making an appropriately dramatic entrance helps boost the “what the kriff aren’t you supposed to be dead” factor.”

Jay snorted. “The fact that you have enough data points to know that is a point in Alek’s favor here.”

“Probably. But we have business to attend to. Come on.”

Revelin turned back to the Mandalorian prisoners. Jay and Alek fell into place beside him, Jay on his right hand and Alek on his left, and together they noted one more victory for the Republic in the war.

Soon enough, it would all be over.

**Author's Note:**

> writing pretty-much-the-end-of-the-war Rev is _hard._ He still has that core of "I'm trying to help EVERYONE" but he also realizes that sometimes you have to make choices, bc he's made those. I think I got a decent balance, but that's purely bc none of it is actually from his perspective lmao. ~~The other reason none of it is from his perspective is bc idk whether her things of himself as Revelin or Revan at this point. Alek and Jay have enough trouble differentiating as it is~~


End file.
